


those were happy days (in so many ways)

by notsaoirseronan



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Background Relationships, Established Relationship, M/M, Rated T for Trashmouth, don't tell my wip im here, idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22166548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsaoirseronan/pseuds/notsaoirseronan
Summary: Richie and Eddie want children, there is one minor issue, which is that they can't have children that are biologically theirs. So, they apply to be foster parents, to see how well they would be at being parents.Ciara is fifteen, and while she still holds the hope of a loving family, she's encountered enough homes to know the unlikeliness of that happening.The title is from The Town I Loved So Well by The Dubliners. It's actually about Derry, so I highly recommend listening to it.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	1. now you must raise our child with dignity

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning mainly focuses on Ciara, and I'm sorry about that, but there is actually reddie in this  
> also, i make jokes about the Orange Order and Protestants in this, and I'm sorry if it offends you
> 
> chatpter title: the fields of athenry

They knew that they couldn't have children that biologically belonged to both of them. Well, they could, but it was just a long and uncomfortable process for a child, that they weren't even sure if they could handle properly. Neither of them had had the childhood of their dreams, that's to be said.

Maybe that's why they chose to become foster parents. They knew how awful people could be to children, and they wanted to show them that there was hope. They'd received a lot of support from their friends when they made the announcement. Which was an encouragement to go through with the application.  
After a few security visits, to make sure they were safe, they got a message saying that a worker was coming over with a child, along with the basics, age, name, dietary restrictions, and anything they should need to know before they met.  
Her name was Ciara, she was fifteen, and she had ADHD. 

When they met her, they got a more important rundown by the worker. She'd been through several homes, one of which used the children for a sweatshop. She was usually quiet, and she had medication and everything else she needed in her bag, which was surprisingly small. Ciara did not have much of a remaining family left, except for an uncle in Ireland, who had yet to respond to any messages.  
"Please message me if there are any issues," Ms Feg said softly. Richie did a slight salute as she walked through the door.

"Ciara, is there anything we can do for you to make your stay better?" Was the first thing Eddie said to her. He sounded like a hotel clerk. She shook her head lightly.  
"Okay, well, let's show you to your room," Rich said, picking up her bag off the floor.

They hadn't known how to decorate the room, so they went with neutrals, yellows, browns and whites for various furniture. 

It took a few days for Ciara to realise that they were genuinely being nice to her, not just building up a false sense of security. She noticed this on the morning of her fourth day when she came into the kitchen area to find the pair making pancakes, a place already set. Eddie was laughing at some joke that Richie had made, presumably about the whipped cream on his black t-shirt.  
It was comforting, in a strange way. Ciara found many small things comforting. Her necklace, for instance. Given to her by her sister on her tenth birthday. _"You see these Hands, a cuisle? The way that they're joined? It represents rebirth, the circle of life."_

That had been before they moved to America, to Los Angeles, for her father to pursue his dream of, whatever he wanted. Ciara hadn't given him much thought since the night. She'd been thirteen, and then, just like now, she didn't understand what they had that was so valuable. So valuable that her entire family was killed, except for her. she hadn't been home. Ciara was with Ashley down the street. She'd gotten a new Wii game, and they had immediately planned a sleepover.

She sat down at the table, before noticing a wrapped box, slightly smaller than her hand next to a glass of orange juice.  
"Uh, I think this belongs to one of you?" She said. The two looked at her in surprise. She hadn't spoken since she'd arrived, except for small words of thanks when they handed her things.  
"No, we bought that for you. Open it," Eddie said. She obeyed, pulling apart the tissue paper to reveal a fidget spinner. It was golden and made a slight sound when she spun it.  
"The social worker told us you have ADHD, and I have it too, so I thought you might need one when you're feeling fidgety," Rich said softly. Ciara looked up and made eye contact with them both.  
"Thank you," She said.

That small act of anticipating her needs kickstarted her appreciation for them. They took her out shopping, so she didn't have to wear the same three shirts all of the time. They didn't push to hear her story, but they were interested in whatever she told them.

Eventually, she opened up about Ireland. She spoke of her friends at her old school, the nuns that terrified them, the jokes about Protestants and the Orange Order, but mostly in private. She never mentioned the town she was from, but sure, anyone could google "the walls, Ireland" and figure it out, based on her accent.  
Ciara also learned about Richie and Eddie. She knew they were holding back on some bits, but respected their boundaries just as much as they respected hers. 

After a week, school started, which terrified Ciara to the bone. She'd never been to an American school, her father had insisted on tutours, claiming that now that his business was booming, they could afford it. So, Richie sat her down and explained the basics, and promised that one of them would go with her to make sure she knew where she was going.

Again, small things.

On the morning before school started, Ciara woke up early, like ridiculously early. So, she decided to prepare breakfast for her foster fathers. A fry, as she called it. She made bacon, sausages, toast, eggs, beans, pudding. She asked Alexa to play some folk tunes whilst she cooked.  
Some may say she was aggressively Irish, but she missed the music her grandfather was always playing. He loved old Irish music. And he made sure she knew the lyrics to most folk songs as well.

Richie woke up to the smell of bacon. At first, he assumed Eddie was up and cooking, as usual, but the weight of the mattress was still present. He lay there, smiling at the slight snoring coming from his husband. God, he never tired of calling him that. _Husband_ , it just had such a wonderful ring to it. Eddie curled up against Richie, nestling his face in the crook of his neck. Softly, Richie stroked the scar on his back. Eddie had had surgery to make it smaller, but it was still there, significant, a reminder of his almost death. Even the doctors doubted his chances, putting him in a medically induced coma.  
That's when Richie had confessed. He'd been sitting next to Eddie, holding his hand, unable to cry as he told him of his feelings, the kissing bridge, everything.

After ten minutes, Richie went into the kitchen and saw Ciara frying eggs, humming along to a song playing on the Alexa.  
"Morning," He said groggily, sitting down by the kitchen island.  
" _Maidin mhaith_!" She said, putting a cup of coffee down in front of his plate.  
"What's all this?"  
"Well, I woke up, and I realised I hadn't thanked you for everything, so I thought I'd make breakfast," She smiled.  
 _'There was music there, in the Derry air, in a language we could all understand'_ Richie's sip of coffee stopped at that line.  
"What's that song?" He asked, only half shaking.  
"The town I loved so well, it's about my hometown,"  
"Derry? You're from Derry?"  
"Yeah? I've got an accent, right?" She said, flipping an egg and cursing in a different language. "The fecking thing is burnt" she muttered.  
Richie took out his phone and typed in Derry, Ireland into google maps. Sure enough, there was a Derry. His heart resumed beating.

"So, you like folk music?" He asked, taking a bite of the meal in front of him.  
"Yeah, sometimes. I like to be reminded of home. A bunch of old Irish people singing The Fields of Athenry," She laughed. Richie smiled. Ciara'd changed since she first showed up with the social worker. She became more casual with them, she'd gotten her own Netflix user. Small things, that made them feel like a family.

He wanted to have a talk with his husband about her. But maybe he should wait more than two weeks before adopting her. 

But when you know, you know. The way she danced around the kitchen, singing a song half in English, half in some other language. He felt oddly proud of her. It was the kind of pride that comes from small actions, the kind that makes you realise how much you click with another person.

He invited the rest of the Losers over for drinks that evening, after making sure Ciara was okay with it, saying they might like to meet their foster daughter. Beverly was over the moon, according to Ben. She couldn't wait to see her.

Actually, the two did look a lot alike. Both had short, red hair, although Ciara's was definitely wilder. They had a similar facial structure, same high cheekbones. It was scary how similar they were, once you connected the dots.

Eddie woke up soon after, gratefully accepting the coffee Ciara handed him, along with the plate of food. He looked confused for a moment.  
"The bread is gluten-free, Eddie. Don't worry," She said in a melody matching the song.  
A smile tugged at his lips, and Richie felt an urge to kiss him good morning. So he did. Perks of marriage. Eddie grinned even wider now, his eyes still sleepy.

Richie took a deep breath. This, this was the ideal life. Not a millionaire in New York, not a hermit in Iowa. This.


	2. in some sad way, i already know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ciara starts school, introduces Richie to an actual comedy, and explains Come Out Ye Black And Tans, which, apparently, isn't a racist song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for basically abandoning this fic. I've been going through a bit of a depressive episode, but this was the best that I could do. Thank you for your patience!

Richie had already prepared Ciara for the basics of ye olde high school, but he was still stressing over how she would cope. School had changed a bit since the 80s, after all.  
He wasn't the only one who worried about her. Eddie was also concerned for her wellbeing. Logic told him that she was a capable girl, able to handle whatever the American School System threw at her. Even if she was currently harmonizing horribly to a song about a triangle playing along some royal canal. 

_She can take care of herself_ , Eddie muttered to himself as he signed the papers to enrol her in the school. 

Ciara immediately disliked the school. The corridors were so chaotically _crowded_. Everything was identical, and she had to ask her way to homeroom. Once she found the room, she quietly took a spot in the back corner. Those seats were preferable. She was able to lean against the wall and she could stay out of trouble. No one noticed the back row in Derry, so she assumed that it was the same in America.  
"Is that seat taken?" A girl asked. She looked a bit like a young Annifrid from ABBA, the blonde one.   
"No, you can sit down," Ciara smiled at the girl as she sat down.  
"I'm Idun, I just moved here from Sweden," She held out her hand for Ciara to shake.  
"Ciara, lovely to meet you," She shook it. Idun immediately turned her head down to the desk. Oh, Scandinavians.

"Alright, kiddos, I'm Mr Fozard, I'm your homeroom teacher and the history teacher in general. Now, since I have all of you in history as well, I'm just going to hand out all of the books now and you can do whatever you want with them for this period. Also, apparently, we have two new students today, an Idun Kjellgren and a Ciara Grámhar, I hope I pronounced both of those names right,"

The history books weren't awful. They were certainly lacking in information, Ciara noted. The chapter about the first world war and the Russian revolution lasted only three pages and barely mentioned anything important. She'd know, she'd had a brief period of time when she was incredibly interested in those two topics. So what if she could hold a relatively complicated conversation in Russian about Stalinism? It was easy.

Richie was the one to pick her up from school. He didn't get out of the car, but he did beep the horn to the beat of Another One Bites The Dust to catch her attention. She seemed relatively happy when she got into the car. Not extremely energetic, but she still talked about her day and about the teachers, the ones she disliked and the ones that she liked.  
"Did you know I'm a comedian?" Richie asked after a while. Ciara shrugged.  
"I noticed you pitching a couple of jokes to Eddie, but I just assumed you two were having some craic,"  
"D-do you think we're on crack?"  
"What? Oh, God no. Craic. Slang for fun,"  
"Good lord, I thought you'd reported us to Social services or something. But, I'm an actual comedian. I'm working on my next special, and I'm wondering if I can mention you in a few jokes?"  
Ciara hummed for a moment.  
"Yeah, sure, just don't mention me by name or any specifics, otherwise, go right ahead,"

Eddie had bought Wendy's for them and had left a note on the paper bags that there had been an emergency at work, but that he would be back around nine. Ciara walked to her room, emerging an hour later with a neon pink all over her eyelids and clutching a bundle of yarn and a crochet needle. She then proceeded to take her spot on the couch and put on Netflix.   
Thirty seconds later, Richie heard the beginning to a Cranberries song and someone monologuing about living in Derry, Northern Ireland. He decided to join her because he had nothing better to do.  
" _Macaulay Culkin isn't a protestant, ma,_ " The girl on TV said as her mother told her not to see him again.  
"What's this?"  
"It's Derry Girls, it's a comedy set in Derry during the nineties, it's bloody hilarious," Ciara said, not taking her eyes off of her crochet project.  
  


 _"Who owns the fella?"_  
 _"Me. Well, come on then, ballache, are you introducing yourself or not?"_  
 _"Hi, I'm Michelle's cousin James,"_  
 _"Why is he making that funny noise?"_  
 _"He's English, Orla, that's the way they talk,"  
_ "I think they're making a lot of jokes about Protestants," Richie said.  
"Yeah, that's the point. They're Catholics, the troubles were kind of a civil war between Catholics and protestants,"

They ended up watching the entirety of season one without leaving their seats. The takeout from Wendy's stayed on the counter, untouched. Richie was silently crying at the end of the last episode, as the girls and James danced at the talent show, contrasted by the harsh truth of the attack.   
"Holy fuck," Was all he managed to say. 

They heard Eddie unlock the door. He entered the apartment to see the two sitting on the couch, tears running down their faces while Dreams by The Cranberries played from the TV as the credits rolled.   
"What happened here?" He asked.   
"Derry Girls," Ciara said casually, walking over to the counter. She grabbed some of the food and put it in the microwave.  
"What?"  
"Northern Ireland Derry, not our Murder Town, Eds," Richie explained, kissing his husband hello.  
"Don't call me Eds, asshole. What's the show about?"  
"Teenagers in the nineties in Catholic Northern Ireland. It's actually funny, if you look past the fact that all of the jokes are based on Protestants and The Orange Order," Ciara said, taking a sip of her soda.  
"The Orange Order?"  
"Protestant organisation, we call them the Tans, which isn't a racial slur, it's just used against the brits," She explained. "I had to explain that to Richie, that was awkward,"

That night, Richie found himself sitting by his computer, writing as if it was the end of the world. The fact that he could tell anecdotes about Ciara had opened up a world of possibilities. She was a genuinely funny person, epecially when she didn't intend to, like using Irish slang, or forgetting that neither of her foster parents spoke Gaelic.  
"Rich? It's like one in the morning, why are you still up?" Eddie asked groggily, hugging him from behind.  
"Sorry, I just got inspiration for my comedy special," He said, kissing his husband gently. He would never tire of kissing Eddie. It reminded him of how they'd wasted so much time not being together, so he intended to cash in on as much as possible now.

Richie liked the safety that Eddie provided. He was reliable, you could always make an educated guess on what he was doing. He was a constant in the wild whirlwind that was Richies life.   
That's why he proposed. Obviously, he knew how much they loved each other, and as Beyoncé once said; If you like it, then you should put a ring on it. So he did. It was one of the few decisions that he was 100% certain of doing. Spending another second without Eddie by his side was unthinkable.  
And now they had a foster daughter, who was fantastical in her own way. She trusted them fully, and she'd come a long way since she first entered their home, three dollars in her backpack and not speaking to anyone.  
They'd watched the life return to her eyes, and they'd watched her become more and more comfortable in America. Obviously, things confused her. For instance, the tax that wasn't included in the price. She claimed that it was bullshit.

Yeah, it kind of was. 

Ciara had a tendency to wake up at inhuman hours, so she was often the one to cook breakfast, which she was actually pretty good at. There had grown a familiarity in waking up to music and the smell of eggs and bacon.  
That specific morning was no different. Ciara woke up, started her playlist and began cooking. Except her foster parents decided to wake up when 'Come Out Ye Black And Tans' played. It's not a racist song, believe it or not. It was just a song written in hatred of the British police force, nicknamed 'The Black and Tans' and how the IRA were in the right.  
Ciara wasn't on the side of the IRA, but she definetly wasn't a British loyalist. Like most people, she was kind of neutral.

This, she explained to her confused foster fathers. They still looked suspicious, so she showed them the Wikipedia page for the song. That seemed to calm them down.

"I'm going to be preforming at this open mic night tonight, y'know, testing new material and so. Do the two of you want to come?" Richie asked as he took a bite of his eggs. Ciara shrugged and nodded, while Eddie had a more vocal response:  
"I mean, why not? Oh, have you told the Losers yet? I think they'd love to come," Richie texted these 'Losers' and surprisingly got a response within five minutes.  
"Bev and Ben are on board, Stan's brining his wife, and I haven't heard from Mike or Bill yet,"

"Fanastico!" Ciara said, drinking the last of her coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm so sorry for not updating this fic in like a month. But I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Grammarly did shut down on me, so I have no idea how shitty this is.  
> Derry Girls is an actual TV series that I highly recommend.


	3. when the angel woos the clay he'd lose his wings at the dawn of the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie Tozier tells a few jokes (and plans a sleepover)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> title from Raglan Road by Luke Kelly (I think)  
> this chapter is kind of Richie-centric

Richie took a deep breath.

He wasn't suffering from stage-fright, but it was the first time he'd invited his friends to see his show. Which made him just a tad bit nervous. 

In. Out. In. Out.

He put on a smile as he walked out onto the stage. He spotted his friends by the bar, Ciara was nursing a glass of coke, looking at him expectantly. Eddie was giving him thumbs up.  
"How're you guys doing tonight? Good? That's good to hear. I never actually understood why people do that, y' know, at concerts. Like, how are y'all doing? And then they're just fucking screaming. Like, do we need a paramedic? Anyway, I'm doing great, I got married, my husband and I got a foster kid, and she's great," He was going to continue, but the audience decided to applaud that fact.  
"I think I found the first person ever who's genuinely funnier than me. Like, the other day, she told me something in Irish, I think, and then she looked at me expectantly, just forgetting that I don't speak that language. And she's from this place called Derry, which has the same name as my hometown, except it's not the Child Murder Town of America, it's just full of Protestants. Oh, she loves making jokes about them. She's catholic Irish, and she's from Northern Ireland, so te times I can understand her, it's mostly jokes about the Tans," He paused for dramatic effect.

"It's not a racial slur!" Richie defended. "I ha the same reaction as you guys, I was like, did I accidentally raise a racist? But, no, she explained this whole thing about the Orange Order and how they're British loyalists, but they're Irish. It's confusing, guys, and you don't even have to deal with her accent. No, she's great, I asked her if I could make these jokes about her, and she gave me the green light. Speaking of green lights, she reads so goddamn much. We have this giant bookcase in our apartment because my husband gets bored easily and he hates computers. Anyway, she actually read The Great Gatsby, without any prompting by an English teacher. How do I know this? One morning at breakfast she goes-" He twisted his face and put on an exaggerated version of her accent"-I think Nick is gay for Gatsby, but Gatsby is a prick and dead, so I don't think that went well'. Like, what does one respond to that?"

He let the joke sink in, taking a sip of water. He was a bit thankful for the bright lights on his face. He couldn't see the audience very well, so there were no visual distractions. But he could still tell when a joke went over well.

"I don't mean to go on and on about my daughter, although she is great craic, which is a slang word where she's from. They spell it differently, though. There's an i somewhere. It doesn't mean cocaine, as one would assume. It means fun. Like, how did they even come up with that? I'm going to go on about my husband too because he's like the best thing that happened to me. Like, yeah, we may have been childhood friends that randomly got assigned to be roommates in college, but cliches aside, he's really great. He made sure I started going to the gym," He flexed his bony bicep, barely anything happening.   
"These babies didn't show up overnight, y' know. Goddamnit, I'm in my forties and I still have the same body as I did when I was 16, like, that's when you have the least amount of body fat, trust me, I'd know. My husband also made me eat healthier. Did you guys know that kale was edible? I just assumed that it was for decoration, like the grass they put on your food at Italian restaurants, which I also learned was edible. What the fuck is parsley?"

Yet another sip of water, god, these lights would wreck him. It was too hot.

He found Eddie's face in the crowd. He was smiling genuinely, holding a bottle of beer.

"Yeah, a lot more plants are edible than I thought. He's growing like a fucking garden in our apartment. We live in fucking LA, and he gives them water from the bottles that you buy, the clean shit. I asked why once because it's confusing to me. He just goes 'Well, we're eating it, so it should also be clean'. First of all, we're eating that shit? I thought it was-" He checked his watch"-2020, not 1976, why are we growing our own supply?"

He managed through the rest of the show without forgetting his lines. He made way for the next _unique_ skinny white guy and went to join his friends. Mike, Bill and Ciara were in a discussion about some book, Ciara waving her hands in a way that looked like sign language. The rest were talking about some movie they'd all gone and seen. It sounded like it was about furries, but he couldn't be certain.  
He tapped Eddie on the shoulder to announce his presence. He was met with a surprising burst of affection, with Eddie kissing him the moment he registered that it was him.  
"Aw, you guys are disgusting," Beverly said sweetly.  
"Like you and Ben are any better," Richie said, pulling his husband into a hug, which he gratefully accepted. There was just something nice about holding Eddie close to him. He knew Eddie liked it too, he liked being able to hear his heartbeat. Which was a bit loud, especially since Eddie was the one close to him.

Richie Tozier had an idea. 

It was a terribly stupid idea, but that did not mean that it wouldn't be fun.

Gathering a group of 44-year-olds in a sleepover, was probably the worst idea he'd ever had, but he missed the childish fun he'd had with the group. Besides, it would be good exercise for Ciara to open up and for her to get to know their friends.

Eddie was on board with it. 

Ciara was on board with it.

Ben, Beverly, Bill, Stan, Patty, and Mike agreed. 

Well, this was going to be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:  
> Me: Writes a 1000-word chapter in less than an hour because I wanted to


	4. lay me gently down in the cold, dark earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headsup: I wrote a deaf side character, but I'm not sure how well I wrote her. So I'm incredibly sorry if I got anything wrong. If I did, please tell me in the comments and I'll fix it!

Everyone went home to get pyjamas (Richie had offered his shirts for them to sleep in, but the idea was shot down). They were halfway home when Richie realised that they didn't have much that could be considered snacks in their home, excluding the half-empty bag of lentil chips that had been in the cupboard dangerously long. So they swung by an off-brand supermarket so they could stock up on anything that would be desired during the night. Eddie even double checked if all of their old favourites from the 80s were still on Netflix. 

Ciara had wandered off and was staring at the display of sodas. Why were there so many different kinds of soda? What was the difference between Fanta and Orangina? What was Orangina? It looked too white to be orange juice.  
"Ciara?" a familiar voice said. She turned around to face Ashley. She hadn't seen her since _that night_. It was surreal. She'd barely changed. The same white hair, the same red lipstick, the same 50s vibe in her appearance.   
"Ashley, how have you been? I haven't seen you since-"  
"Since Boston, I know. I'm sorry for moving so quickly after, y' know, but my moms didn't want to raise a child in the neighbourhood where one of the worst murders of the town happened,"  
"Yeah, no, I get it," Ciara said, looking down at her hands, wringing them aggressively. It was a nervous habit, apparently genetic.  
"So, who're you here with, on the other side of the country?"  
"Um, I'm here with my foster dads, I've been in the system for a while,"   
"Sorry, could you look at me, I can't read your lips when you're facing down," Ashley said politely.  
"Oh, of course. I'm sorry. I'm here with my foster dads," She paused for a few seconds before curiosity got the better of her. "So how did it happen, if you don't mind me asking?" She asked, gesturing vaguely to her ears.  
"I don't mind, and I got into a car accident a few weeks ago, I think, and when I woke up, I couldn't hear. My moms are working on learning sign language," She said sweetly. What a strange thing to say in such a soft voice.  
"Oh! I know a bit," Ciara said. _Hi, my name is C-I-A-R-A_ , she signed. fingerspelling her name.  
"Yeah, I'm also learning, but I just prefer to lipread when I'm not wearing my hearing aids. One thing they didn't tell me, they're super uncomfortable,"

"Ciara!" Eddie's voice called through the aisles, moving rapidly closer. Within seconds, he entered the aisle they were standing in and walked up to her.   
"Richie's ready to go soon, have you picked out any sodas?"  
"I don't know the differences between half of them, so no," She said, grabbing two bottles of coke and one called Doctor Pepper, whatever that was. She moved to grab another bottle, but she was distracted when she heard the song that began playing over the speakers.

 _'I, I will be king, and you, you will be queen'_ The beginning of Heroes, one of her old favourite songs. They'd been listening to it on the night, a few hours before she got the news. Ashley had just gotten the single from her moms for her birthday. She'd promptly invited Ciara so they could listen to it, play videogames and watch movies.  
"It's Heroes, by Bowie," She told Ashley in response to her confused look.

"EDS!" Richie came into sight, standing on the edge of the shopping cart, sliding across the floor. "It's our song!" He said, kissing Eddies cheek.  
"Who are you?" He asked Ashley, only now noticing her presence.  
"I'm Ashey, Ciara's friend," She reached out to shake both of their hands.   
"My mom's a big fan of you, Mr Tozier," She said politely.  
"Well, that's sweet," He answered his hands in his pockets. 

Ciara was just standing there, remembering the last time she'd been with Ashley.

_"I got this new record, do you want to listen to it when you come over?" She said over the phone. Ciara smiled the way she never did around anyone else. Ashley was one of the sweetest people she knew, and it scared her. What if she was going to leave her for a better friend?  
"Sure! Can we play animal crossing on your Nintendo as well?"  
"Absolutely!" Ciara could hear the excitement in her voice.   
"I'll be there in like ten minutes, will you get the popcorn started?" Ciara grabbed the last of her things, a copy of The Secret History, her favourite necklace, three bottles of nail polish, and her favourite t-shirt. It was an old concert t-shirt from 1975 when her grandparents had taken her father to see Queen.   
  
_ _Ashley was the best person to have sleepovers with. She was open to any ideas, but she still had plenty. They watched The Princess Bride, The Princess Diaries 1 &2 and were currently making their way through the 2004 A Cinderella Story. Cheesy chick flicks were a bit stereotypical, but they were extremely fun to watch. Ciara could watch The Princess Bride a thousand times and still laugh at the jokes.  
The movie was still playing, but it was ignored since they were painting each other's nails. It was a tradition, one of them would buy a new colour that looked or sounded strange, and they would paint each other's nails, and make puns based on the name. This time it was a peachy orange colour named Peachy Keen. One of Ashley's mothers had come upstairs with hot chocolates a few minutes ago, and both cups were half empty, haphazardly balanced on a stack of Terry Pratchett books.  
_

 _"Have you ever been kissed?"  
_ _It was past midnight, almost completely quiet in the house. The two girls lay on each side of the bed, backs touching because of the small size of the bed. Ashley had been the one to ask the question, breaking the almost deafening silence.  
"No," Had been Ciara's truthful response. She was a hyperactive weirdo with a strange accent. Most people wouldn't want to touch her with a five-foot pole. The bed dipped as Ashley turned around to face the other girl. Ciara only thought it fair that she did too.  
_

_There was an unspoken agreement, spoken in a subconscious code. It took what felt like ages until their lips touched. Ciara had loved it, she liked the feeling of kissing someone. Especially someone so undoubtedly female. She didn't know why and barely knew now, she hated the idea of marriage. Because as far as she knew, it was prison-like. The other person restricts you, but you both complain, even if there's an easy way out. All of the marriages that had surrounded her had been loveless or the partners spent so much time apart that they didn't know how to act once they were reunited._

_But kissing Ashley was different. She never thought that she would tire of doing so. Their lips fit together so perfectly, it felt as if the world was back in sync._

_Of course, it only lasted for three seconds, before they heard the doorbell go off. And then the bad news had been delivered._

When she snapped back to reality, Ashley was still making polite conversation with Richie. He seemed to have picked up on her inability to understand unless you spoke slowly, and he was now speaking at a terrifyingly slow pace.  
One of Ashley's mothers came into the aisle and attracted her daughter's attention.  
"Sweetie, we need to get going soon," She said, doing her best to sign along.  
"Mom, Ciara's here," Ashley said, smiling.  
"That's great, but your mother is in the car and she doesn't want to miss Brooklyn Nine-Nine, y' know?"  
"Yeah, I do. Wait, Ciara, gimme your hand," Ashley took it gently in her own and took out a pen from her pocket. She scribbled her number onto the back of her hand and kissed it lightly, enough to leave a lipstick stain.

"Bye!" She called over her shoulder as she disappeared around the corner.

Ciara turned around to see her dads wiggling their eyebrows at her.  
"Shut up," She muttered.  
"We didn't say anything!" Richie said defensively.  
"You were thinking that me and her have some form of history, right?"  
"Yeah, I thought it was obvious," Eddie said.  
"I'll explain in the car, it's going to take a while," Ciara said, grabbing the grocery cart and leading it away, loudly humming along to the song, which was beginning to fade into Take On Me.

Richie felt the need to protect Ciara, even more so now that he knew that she probably wasn't straight. He knew how fucked up the world could be to non-straight teenagers, and he felt an intense desire to shield her from it. To be her gay Yoda. He grabbed his notebook and scribbled _Be gay Yoda to Ciara, talk abt emotions n shit_. There, now he would probably not forget to talk to her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: writes this fic, and therefore has the power to do anything to the plot.  
> Also me: "are they.....you know.....girl in red fans...."
> 
> also, sorry for not writing the sleepover in this chapter, I got a bit distracted, but it will be in the next one.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome!

**Author's Note:**

> well, the phrase "small things" seems to be a motif in this, completely unintentionally


End file.
